


catch the moon

by clarkegrff (fayevsessays)



Series: the blue wallet rule [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:58:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayevsessays/pseuds/clarkegrff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing she notices is that Clarke’s god awful blue wallet is just hanging out of the back pocket of her jeans, her own Arkers shirt isn’t even covering the target, as she juggles carrying two beers in one hand, her phone and ticket in the other. And she's smiling at her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	catch the moon

**Author's Note:**

> sequel to 'do the right thing': i found your wallet and returned it and now you’re sitting next to me at this ice hockey game and have the balls to be supporting the WRONG team?

Lexa doesn’t really believe in the idea of karma. Things happen because they happen. There’s no such thing as a good and bad balance that can raise you up or bring you crashing down.

But every once and a while something happens that makes her consider giving the idea a second thought. 

Like everything that follows some guy slamming into her on the metro in a poor attempt to steal her bag. 

His burly shoulders drop too much and he doesn’t get any sort of grip on the strap of her backpack, which is more expensive than anything she’s wearing and has her laptop inside of it, so when she shoves him back he’s startled. 

There’s a very heated exchange of words that ends with Anya stepping in once she finally takes her headphones off. The guy denies trying to do anything and Lexa bluffs about calling the police (which she’d never do because there are no doubt a few crime reports just waiting for her name to be attached to them) before he makes a swift exit.

Not before he shoulders her again, of course, and Lexa grabs his jacket to deliver a punch to his gut. 

The door closes on the train as he crumples to the floor on the station floor. Anya mockingly waves at him as she slings a protective arm around Lexa’s shoulders.

“What an idiot.” Anya states. “You’d think he’d think twice about trying to dupe someone with steel capped boots and a 'don’t fuck with me' expression.”

She looks at Lexa and smiles. “And I guess you’re pretty scary too.”

Lexa fixes the strap of her bag and accounts for everything on her. Her keys are still in her pocket, attached to the chain on her belt and her wallet is still in the zipped inner pocket of her leather jacket. The bell on the zipper is quiet.

“Can’t believe he thought that would work.” Lexa scoffs. She watches the train rush by and Anya chuckles. The train is busy enough for their conversation to disappear in the claustrophobic atmosphere. 

“What goes around.” Anya nudges her with her elbow and when Lexa looks up, Anya is waving a white envelope in her hand. An envelope that once belonged to their would be thief. “Comes around.”

Lexa grins.

*

Their apartment is spotless. Everything has a place and everything that shouldn’t be there has a hiding place instead. Walking in inside is a test in distraction. Eyes are easily drawn to the artwork on the walls, the clean countertops of their kitchen and the bikes that are hanging on fixed stands on the walls. 

It distracts from cupboards that have hollow backs and loose bricks around the fireplace. And the samurai sword on the mantelpiece is purely decorative.

Anya opens the envelope with a knife, cutting the contents loose and spilling them over the black table. Lexa’s amusement over pickpocketing their wannabe thief grows all the more as a small, but appreciated stack of twenties slaps against the surface followed by a couple of pieces of paper trapped safely inside a plastic wallet.

The paper suddenly becomes more valuable than the money when Lexa picks it up to inspect the contents. 

Like possibly a few hundred dollars more valuable. 

“The bastard has tickets.”

Anya pauses in her money counting. “What?”

Lexa flips the tickets around. “Finals tickets for the Grounders game.”

Now this is one of those moments. 

*

They’re there from the start, sneaking in their own beers and watching as some of the kids on the opposite row watch with something like awe as Anya twists off the cap. They giggle and blush when Lexa takes a drink and it’s okay because they’re tiny and swamped with their green Grounders jerseys. 

Anya claims the outside seat, always one to ensure their getaway, so she has to stand first and blocks Lexa’s view of whoever is coming along to sit down in the free seats next to them. 

The first being a tall brunette wearing an Arker’s jersey and scowling at the scoreboard, completely disregarding Lexa as she stumbles past. Her friend is apologising before she even comes into view and when she does Lexa swallows, hard.

This is awkward.

“Oh.”

The first thing she notices is that Clarke’s god awful blue wallet is just hanging out of the back pocket of her jeans, her own Arker’s shirt isn’t even covering the target, as she juggles carrying two beers in one hand, her phone and ticket in the other. 

Lexa doesn’t have the out to pretend that she doesn’t know who Clarke is. There’s a shit ton of new music on her iPod that is in thanks to this woman. 

So Lexa kicks at Anya’s ankle when her friend makes all the signs of sliding that wallet out from under Clarke’s nose and gives her a smile that looks more like a grimace. “Hi.”

“You.” Clarke points and almost spills her beer all over Lexa’s lap. “I am so sorry.”

It seems then that Clarke gets a better look at the Grounders beanie hat and it’s often voted most gruesome logo (a deer with a mutated head) and frowns in response. “And here I thought I had you pegged as someone with impeccable character.”

Oh, she couldn’t be more wrong. Lexa’s smile grows and Anya’s curiosity does as well. “I’m afraid you caught me on a good day.”

“Then?” Clarke asks. “Or now.”

She’s still standing and when her friend finally yanks her down (“Raven!”) Clarke loses half of one of her beers on the floor. The couple sitting in front of her scowl over their shoulders and Clarke rolls out more apologies. 

Anya shoots her a look and without pausing Lexa switches to trigedasleng, a language that never really stopped expanding after they jokingly messed around making up words when Anya started linguistics at community college, and explains. 

She gets such an exasperated look in return that Lexa kicks her ankle again. When she looks back, Clarke is downing the remainder of her drink, and Lexa can’t help but watch the feat with appreciation.

Clarke wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “No judging.” She jokes. “I’ve had a hell of a week.”

Lexa kicks back and crosses a leg over her knee. She is the air of relaxation, with her arm around Anya’s chair, but Lexa is already taking note of who is sitting around them incase something happens. “Your day doesn’t seem to be going much better.”

The buzzer blares out and Clarke raises her arms with a vulgar gesture to the players on the ice. “God damn it.”

The Maryland Arkers are trailing by three to a physically dominating Washington Grounders team. Lexa is only a little bit sorry that Clarke wasn’t here to see the gloating that came with Arker’s star Bellamy Blake being ejected within the first five minutes. 

“It’s not too late to leave.” Lexa remarks. Clarke gives her a half-hearted glare at Lexa’s suggestion. “You and your friend are more than welcome to sneak out.”

“Please.” Clarke covers her friend Raven’s snort of amusement. “It’s not over until it’s over.”

Anya rolls her eyes and Lexa allows herself to loosen up just for a second. She’s not pretending to be a good person, she’s not getting caught doing anything she’s not meant to be (unless the tickets belong to someone who usually sits here and Clarke is just biding her time before she asks where her seat buddy is), and Lexa is a big fan of watching the light of hope disappear from people’s eyes.

Something which sounds slightly psychotic can be enjoyed in day to day life. 

Especially when Nathan Miller (Arker 9) thinks he can out muscle Gustus (Grounder 44) and finds himself flattened against the boards. 

Anya lets out an appreciative whistle and Clarke starts on her second beer. Lexa doesn’t turn her head from the action but smirks. “I’m sure the end will come soon enough.”

“We can come back from this.” Clarke mutters, to herself, to Raven and to Lexa. “We destroyed the Mountain Men to get here.”

Lexa holds back her comment about the Mountain Men losing their top two scorers two weeks before their playoff game against the Arkers because that would just be poor taste.

“And the Grounders have won the last three games against the Arkers.” Lexa informs.

Anya takes a drink from her bottle. “And the last two conference titles.”

Clarke wears a defeated expression that comes out mostly in her bottom lip. Lexa’s eyes dip just for a second, but the way Clarke recovers, tells her that she noticed. 

“We’ll surprise you.” Clarke says like it wasn’t a series of lucky events that got the Arkers to this point.

“Nothing surprises me.” Lexa leans back in her chair and nurses her beer. Clarke inches forwards, curiously, swirling her own drink in the plastic cup. Her friend Raven mutters for her to lean back but Clarke ignores her. 

“So not even if Arkers equalize.”

“No.” Lexa replies calmly. “Because the end result will be the same.”

“You’re so sure of that.”

“Definitely.”

Now Clarke is being purposely distracting as she sits back in her chair. Her shoulder is just brushing Lexa’s, before she crosses her legs and turns her body to face Lexa with a proposition on her tongue. “Say the game goes to overtime-”

“The Grounders will win.” Lexa keeps her eyes as forward as she can because while Raven wears one of the men’s authentic jerseys, Clarke has (disappointingly and not- at the same time) opted for the low cut women’s version that the organization thinks will bring more female fans in. And Lexa can see the goosebumps along her collarbones.

“I’m sure your confidence will be better placed elsewhere but it’s appreciated.” Clarke drawls with amusement. “If it gets to overtime, d’ya think you could actually let me buy you a drink this time?”

Anya is definitely listening and definitely laughing at her, silently, while Lexa tries to determine whether or not Clarke realizes that she’s got this the wrong way around.

When she points this out, Clarke just grins. “Well, if they don’t then you’ll be the one helping me drown my sorrows.”

At this point there’s a cheer and green jerseys rise around the stands. Anya yells louder than most of the crowd around them and Lexa, with a blank pointed look at Clarke, fist bumps Anya. 

Clarke’s got that competitive spark in her eyes that Lexa can’t wait to see disappear. “Oh it’s on.”

*

Lexa puts her wallet away, shifting her pocket knife into a new space, and settles the glass bottle on the table in front of Clarke. “I’ve got a sweater in the back of Anya’s car if you want to avoid the gloating.”

Anya is currently lining up some shots at the bar while Clarke’s friend downs them. After the Grounders took away any chance of a comeback, in regular time, Clarke and Raven had been dejected but polite sports and stayed through the celebrations. That was pretty much the only reason that Anya hadn’t balked when Lexa had steered them all to their usual post-game bar. 

(Usual meaning whenever they could afford the tickets to go. Crime doesn’t pay much and Lexa is only halfway through her history degree so Anya defaults as their breadwinner).

Clarke looks over her shoulder to the small group of Grounders fans that are tossing her mocking gestures and laughing at her expense. She shakes her head. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse.”

Lexa takes a seat at the table (the exit is in sight) and takes a drink. Clarke has poured everything out of her pockets in an attempt to relax and Lexa is treated to the sight of that damn blue wallet and gold fucking iPhone once again. Missed chances, both of them, she rolls her eyes. 

“Rough week you said?” Lexa ignores the urge to just run her fingers over things that don’t belong to her. 

“The roughest.” Clarke’s voice takes on that tone that Lexa’s heard a few times in her daydreams and she instinctively checks on Anya, who is counting out the shots Raven is taking, to make sure she hasn’t picked up on it. “Tonight was supposed to be fun though.”

“It’s not over until it’s over.” Lexa reminds her. “You still have time.”

Clarke is halfway through taking a drink when her laughter bubbles out and she swallows. “Right, it can only get better.” She puts her drink down and after a second she takes on a more satisfied expression. “Unless you have other plans?”

Lexa laughs at that one. Clarke isn’t as subtle as she likes to think she is. (Since they’ve arrived Clarke has already fixed her make up, ran her fingers through her hair several times and drank her way through one beer just to stop her eyes burning a hole in Lexa’s jersey. And it’s not just because she’s an Arkers fan). 

“Not yet.”

In all honesty there’s a couple of books she needs to take notes from, an essay plan to email to her supervisor, and a few less than legal pay for hack jobs that she’s got filling her inbox. 

But Clarke did just admit defeat with some grace and Anya is starting the night like she means to go on so Lexa is in it for the long run. 

“That,” Clarke raises her glass. “-is exactly what I wanted to hear.”

*

“Shut up.” Clarke groans in the distance. She’s trying really hard to swat to Raven, who is leaning heavily on Anya as they trudge up the stairs, but that’s hindered by the fact Lexa is carrying Clarke over her shoulder as they go up.

Two bars and multiple rounds of shots (and a near bar fight) later Raven finally gave up their address and handed over her keys and entrusted two practical strangers to get them home.

If Lexa didn’t just spend the evening enjoying Clarke’s attempt to make the most out of her night by getting ridiculously drunk and overly flirtatious, she would have bailed long ago. That being said, she kind of wishes Anya was the one carrying Clarke up the stairs, if only to stop her friend laughing every time her ‘steadying hand’ gets anywhere near Clarke’s ass.

Anya has keys so there’s no need to show off by opening the door without them, and within seconds Clarke is cheering at the sight of their home. 

“Bedroom is that way.” Clarke gestures and Lexa assumes, due to Clarke pointing out of her sight, that it’s the door without a stolen roadsign drilled into it. 

“Whenever you think you can feel your legs again, just let me know.” Lexa comments as she proceeds to Clarke’s bedroom. 

“Right-o.”

Her room turns out mostly how Lexa imagined. Blue painted walls decorated with various photographs tacked to them, shelves stacked high with reference books and medical dictionaries. Clarke’s dirty scrubs are peeking out of her laundry basket and Lexa is glad she doesn’t have to clear anything off the bed when she sets Clarke down. 

Clarke laughs at the softness of her bed and hooks her fingers in Lexa’s belt, tugging her closer. There’s a line that Lexa is here to make sure isn’t crossed so she smiles but carefully takes Clarke’s hand away. It doesn’t deter Clarke’s need for closeness apparently as she continues. 

“C’mere, here.” Clarke pulls the neck of her jersey and into her personal space. Before Lexa can pull Clarke’s fingers away again, and figure out why Clarke is making such a pleased expression, there’s a phone in front of their faces and Lexa groans as Clarke takes a couple of bad, blurred pictures of the two of them. “Hey-”

Lexa takes control of her phone and closes the application. Clarke reaches for her without success and Lexa ignores that Clarke is wrapping herself around her waist, while she deletes some of the pictures. 

She’s not going to end up on Clarke’s wall, real or virtual. 

(She does however keep the one Clarke took of Raven and Anya, sending it on to her own phone and deleting the text after, where they’re linking arms trying to drink their respective beers because some things are too good to not be immortalised).

Clarke’s arms slip away from her and she mumbles something before sleepily laying back on her bed. 

It’s a cute sight, she’s not blind or too stubborn to admit it, and Lexa smiles. 

Clarke is out for the count and Lexa never does anything without knowing the consequences but she’s more than a little buzzed and tonight had been fun. 

So while Clarke curls herself around her pillow Lexa leaves her number, to that piece of shit blackberry, in Clarke’s contacts where she might never notice it. 

Clarke is out like a light when Lexa puts her phone and charge and retreats from the room. 

Anya hasn’t had the same luck with Raven, who has passed out on the couch, leaving Anya to root through her wallet. Lexa gives her a look but backs down when Anya reminds her that there’s a cab outside waiting and neither of them have as much money as they think. 

Still, Lexa scribbles out a note letting Raven know that she hasn’t been robbed (because she wouldn’t get away with a few dollars if they’d gone to town) and leaves the keys on the side. 

They’re in the cab, halfway home and happy when Anya takes her shot.

“Not sure you'll get away with stealing a person. Even if she is an easy target."

Lexa has no qualms about kicking her- hard.

*

She plasters that awful picture of Raven and Anya drinking all over Anya’s bedroom walls, under her bed, in her drawers and on her ceiling. It takes Anya two hours to take most of them down and three weeks later Lexa still hears her cursing when she comes across one she’s missed. 

Maybe karma has a place every once and a while. 

*


End file.
